Along Comes a Wolfe

by Angie Counios

  He looks out at the school, mulling it over. “Okay, you stay here and run recon. You see or hear anything that might be valuable, let me know.” He shakes his phone.

  “What’s your number?” I ask.

  “Programmed it into your phone yesterday. It’s under ‘Hot Diggity.’ ”

  I must be getting used to him because I’m a little less fazed by this today.

  He grabs another doughnut, a honey dip, and opens the door of the car, swinging his feet onto the pavement.

  “Okay, gimme fifteen, twenty minutes to get in and out.”

  I nod.

  “And don’t touch my doughnuts, okay? You want some, you buy your own—got it?”

  I can’t help but laugh at his manners; he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

  He stares out at the school, mulling something over in his head. He looks back at me. “You talk to Gekas today?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Just that you didn’t tell me. If we’re gonna be partners, you gotta keep me in the loop.”

  Then he’s gone and I’m left wondering when we became partners—or accomplices.

  chapter 42

  The wait for Charlie is excruciating.

  It’s already been ten minutes and even though I’m supposed to give him another five, I’m ready to call and tell him to get back here. I’m certain he won’t listen to me, though, so I don’t know what good it would do. Might even make things worse by drawing attention to him. But if I do, then at least I can say that I was against his actions when the authorities track us down and take us in.

  I watch the crowds outside the school. Parents keep swooping in and airlifting their kids out of harm’s way. Fear has set in and rational thought is out. Nothing has happened to anyone while they were in class; everything has occurred after school. If anything, these crazy adults should be locking their kids up once they get home from their daily education.

  Reporters keep questioning everyone, desperate for a sound bite they can play at 6:00. Moms and dads aren’t having it, so every socially needy teen crowds around the cameras hoping to be interviewed. I like being a part of our connected generation, but for every interesting person or story out there, there are a dozen duck-faces and angry rants from someone desperate for attention.

  I’m watching the action out there, but my mind keeps drifting to what Charlie said. Sheri was murdered. The thought is like a spike driven deep down in my brain. I keep having this memory of her smiling at me—I don’t know where we are—all I know is it’s sunny and warm—knowing that I won’t—no, that I may not—see her again. I want to throw up. I want to cry. But I force it all back, roll down the window and suck down the fresh air that washes in.

  A dark car pulls up to the school—I’ve seen it before. Gekas steps out and I sink lower in my seat. I’m sure I’m far enough away that she can’t see me, but I don’t want to take the risk.

  I grab my phone and text Charlie:

  Gekas is here. Get out.

  I hold the phone, staring at it, waiting for a reply. Nothing. I peek over the window frame. Gekas is talking to a couple of officers at the front doors. She’s facing my way and I’m hoping she doesn’t see me. A guy sitting in a car by a school where one of the students has just been murdered is suspicious. A guy slunk down, trying not to be seen in front of that same school is a whole new level of wrong.

  I look at my phone. A minute has passed and still nothing from Charlie.

  Where the hell is he?

  Gekas moves inside the school with one of the officers; the other remains stationed at the door.

  I text again.

  Gekas is inside.

  I wait for a response but at this point I’m not expecting anything. I’m considering the possibility of sneaking inside to find him. Where would I even start? How quickly would someone realize I don’t belong? When would Gekas come after me? What would happen if I showed up? I might not even make it across the front lawn before reporters and cops figure out who I am and swarm me.

  Bzzz.

  Finally. I look at my phone, but it’s not Charlie—it’s Jessica.

  FYI - Dillon was dating murdrd girl

  What? How do you know?

  I wait, watching Jessica type, the little grey dots cycling over and over.

  Katie told me. She was interested

  in him til she heard. Says he still

  tried to make a move on her.

  Ah, classic Dillon. Playing as many girls as he can. Which also explains why Katie maybe didn’t seem to be on my side at our little gathering. And Charlie stole Dillon’s phone.

  I go to my photos, scrolling through them until I find the screenshots he took. Gf for now—I am guessing that’s Maggie. Damn. I look over the messages but really there’s nothing there:

  Want to come over?

  Cant. Football

  Later?

  Maybe

  The guy’s as boring as ’90s soft rock. I have no clue what Sheri ever saw in this idiot.

  I text Jessica a thx and look at the time. Charlie’s been in there for twenty minutes.

  I’m stuck. I’d drive away but that would be a dick move and I’ve thoroughly convinced myself that I’m not going in. My mind tries to put the pieces together about Dillon. Two people he’s been with have had… bad things happen to them. Plus, there’s a third—Mia-ow, whoever that is—waiting on the sidelines. Right now, he’s my number one suspect, and I want to figure out what the hell he’s up to.

  “Didja touch my doughnuts?”

  I nearly crap myself. Charlie’s kneeling beside my driver’s side window.

  “Where the hell did you come from?”

  “Ah—I had to take the long way back. Seriously, did you?”

  “What?”

  “Touch my doughnuts.”

  “No!”

  “Cool. Did you know Gekas is here?”

  “What do you think I’ve been texting you about?”

  Charlie looks at his phone. “Oh yeah, I forgot I turned it off.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I figured you’d get panicky and start texting me every second.”

  “Then why’d you tell me to keep an eye out?”

  “To keep you out of trouble.” He circles around to the passenger side and jumps in. “Let’s go.”

  I start the car and pull around the first corner I can. Once we’re a little way down the block, I hit the gas and put as much distance between us and the school as I can.

  chapter 43

  Charlie opens the box and starts munching on an apple fritter. I’m not a fan but I guess someone’s gotta eat them.

  “Can we stop at a gas station?”

  “Sure. You need a coffee to wash that down?”

  He pulls his doughnuts farther away from me. “That’s just gross.”

  “So what did you go looking for in there?”

  Charlie chews for a bit, pondering the question. “Yesterday, out at the trails, I kept wondering if the place he chose maybe wasn’t for convenience.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I wondered if it had significance in itself.” He points at a gas station on the left and I pull up to the store.

  He runs in quickly and comes back with a map.

  “There’s an app for that, you know,” I say.

  He ignores me, motioning me to start driving again, then continues with his thought, “I wondered if he attacked Sheri in the bathroom for a reason.”

  He looks at me, waiting.

  “What?”

  “You going to act up every time I say her name?”

  “I didn’t say anything!”

  “You don’t have to. You just get all weird and edgy.”

  I could argue but I know he’s right; I’ve lost all ability t
o put on a game face. I resign myself to the inevitable, “Go on.”

  He watches me for a moment, assessing. “I don’t think it’s simply the convenience of the attack, you know? You could hang out in a stall, wait until someone comes, then attack.”

  “But how could he expect—” I pause, then push through, “Sheri to show up there?”

  “I don’t know. Unless he was stalking her. Or he knew her and this was the end of something.”

  I hate him saying any of this but I also think of Jessica’s text about Dillon. I’m about to tell him but he’s talking again.

  “I don’t think it’s just a perve thing, like wanting to watch them pee. It’s something more…” He trails off, thinking and I don’t interrupt. “Anyway, I wanted to see if there was a pattern there, if the bathroom had significance.”

  “And?”

  He gets this big grin on his face and pulls out his phone to show me a picture. It’s white and grey and has some writing on it, but with all the bumps and potholes on the street and my desire to not make us crash, I give up. “What is it?”

  “It says, ‘A stitch in time.’ ”

  “That’s it? No, ‘saves nine’ ?”

  “Nope.”

  “What’s it mean?”

  “I don’t know. But you wanna know where I found it?”

  I shake my head because he’s on a roll.

  “On the floor behind a toilet in the last stall of the first floor girls’ bathroom on the west side. ”

  “You think it’s from Maggie’s killer?”

  “You know how many bathrooms I checked in that school? All of them. At least, I think I found all of them. And this was the only one with writing.”

  “So, a threat? Like, nine people to die?”

  Charlie shakes his head. “Nah. My thought is the guy had four or five hours to wait around, pre- or post-attack.”

  “So, he either got bored and started doodling or he’s getting cocky and leaving a signature.”

  Charlie nods, excited by the idea. “Better still, do you know what else is on the west side of Ashworth Comp?”

  I try and think about the school and how it’s laid out, but I barely remember anything except for the reporters, the students, the cops, and Gekas.

  “The parking lot!” Charlie exclaims. “The west entrance opens right onto the student parking lot, which is in direct line of sight to the new subdivision where they found her body.”

  It’s all circumstantial, but I wonder if he might be onto something. “Did you just say you went into every girls’ bathroom? And no one saw you? In a school pretty much on lockdown you never once got caught?”

  “What can I say? I’m the magic man.”

  “I thought you were Hot Diggity?”

  “That too!” He finishes off his apple fritter and opens up the map.

  I still don’t know what he’s looking for.

  chapter 44

  Now it’s my turn. “While you were sneaking around toilet stalls, I connected with my own sources.”

  “It’s about time. I can’t do all the work.”

  I try to ignore the shot, but it’s true. I’m not really sure what I’ve been doing to help. “Turns out, Maggie was dating Dillon.”

  He pulls out a jam-filled doughnut caked with sugar. “Oh, that?”

  “Wait? What? You knew?”

  “Of course I did.” He pauses, realizing. “Did I forget to tell you?”

  I nod. So much for being partners and sharing all the info.

  “Shoot. Sorry about that. After you dropped me off, I decided to follow up on Dillon. He works over at that burger place on Quance—”

  He looks at me, as if I should know the place he’s talking about.

  “You know, Romeo’s Burgers—”

  “No clue.”

  “Anyway, he works the drive-thru on weekends.” He pauses, taking a big bite of doughnut.

  Sugar sprinkles are everywhere. I watch with dismay as it falls around him—and all over my dad’s tidy car.

  Charlie’s oblivious. “I could really go for one of their Sloppy Chew specials…” he adds.

  “Dude?”

  He looks and I nod to the mess he’s making on the seat.

  “Oh, sorry.” He grabs a napkin from the glove box and begins dusting off his lap and the car seat.

  His revelations aren’t over. “So this morning after I heard about Maggie, I went and looked through their employee records—”

  “How do you even do that?”

  He looks at me and I realize who I’m talking to.

  “And sure enough, Maggie Phelps worked there, too. I did a bit more digging around, and guess what? Never mind, I’ll tell you. They were dating.” He looks at me as he licks off a glop of raspberry jam from his hand. “I don’t suppose we could stop for a burger—”

  “No.”

  I drive in silence.

  “What’s up your ass?”

  “What about all your ‘we’re a team’ or ‘yeah, we’re partners’ or ‘keeping each other in the loop’?”

  “You’re mad because I didn’t tell you about Dillon?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Ah. I, uh, see how you could be upset about that.”

  “You could, could you?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  His ability to be this much of a dumbass astounds me. I laugh.

  He stares down at the last doughnut in the box—chocolate covered with sprinkles. “You know, Dillon’s at a football game this afternoon.”

  I look over at him.

  “We could go check him out. Of course, Gekas and her homies will make the connection soon enough and likely be on their way.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He closes the lid on the last doughnut, saving it for later. “Sweet.”

  chapter 45

  School buses sit at the players’ entrance of the city stadium, a handful of cars edged around them. Even though schools play in the stadium of our national league team, turnout is minimal.

  Charlie hops out of the car, taking his map and doughnut box with him.

  I follow him to the main entrance. “Are you ever going to share?”

  “Let it go,” he says over his shoulder, then realizes I’m talking about his food. “Why should I? You’re rich. Get your own.”

  I jog a bit to catch up. “I’m not rich.”

  “So says the guy who lives in snob central.”

  “Whatever.”

  “What do your parents do for fun? Art gallery openings? Night at the symphony?”

  I laugh but their last date was for a hospital foundation fundraiser. I decide not to comment.

  “My mom’s idea of a good night is watching reality tv drunk on the couch.”

  I’m guessing it’s not a lie and have no idea how to respond.

  “You and I are night and day.”

  He shifts the doughnut box to the side away from me.

  “So why are you hanging around?” I get up the courage to ask.

  He looks over at me.

  “I mean, if we’re so different, if who I am pisses you off, why are you even bothering?”

  He glares at me for a second, then a sly smile comes across his face. “You know, trying to make me feel like a jerk isn’t going to get you anywhere near my doughnut box.”

  I smile and let it go. But somewhere beneath all the attitude is more to the story of Charlie than a kid from a broken home and a mother who doesn’t care. At least, that’s my best guess. His indifference makes me think that if she’s around, she’s an irrelevant feature of his life.

  He keeps poking at my so-called “rich kid” status too, and it’s annoying. I’m not the stereotype he thinks I am, but then Charlie definitely doesn’t act like a poor kid from
the wrong side of the tracks, either. He’s full of surprises. He pulled that cell phone out of his pocket when I didn’t even think he owned one, and for all I know he could drive around the corner one day in some souped-up muscle car. If he keeps going the way he has been, nothing will surprise me in the end.

  Inside the stadium we take the ramp up to the second level; the seats above the few spectators there will give us a good view. We come out to the bleachers on the shady side of the stadium. The sun is out but a fall breeze keeps things cool.

  Charlie zips up his sweater, pulling it tight. “Maybe I shoulda bought us some shitty gas station coffee.”

  I smile. “Would have been good for a stakeout.”

  The players are on the field. The game is in its second quarter. Dillon’s team has the ball and it’s third and one, but I can’t see where he is.

  Charlie points toward centrefield, “Our boy’s the running back.”

  I see his name, ross, number 27, to the left of the quarterback, number 48, waiting for the snap. He circles around as 48 takes the ball and cuts quick across the back. The quarterback twists and pitches the ball under his left arm into Dillon’s waiting grasp. Dillon digs down and runs and I can see the speed in his legs. He’s quick but not observant and he’s rushed by the safety, who slams him hard to the ground.

  I admit I enjoy seeing him taken down.

  The offensive line moves off the field and Dillon takes a seat on the bench. He pulls off his helmet and pours some sugary electrolytes down his throat. The whole action seems posed, like he thinks he’s in a commercial and everyone’s watching.

  Unfolding the map, Charlie scoffs, “He’s always announcing how he’s an elite athlete in the halls.”

  “What a douche.”

  “Couldn’t agree more.”

  I lean forward. “What if it’s all a show for someone… special”

  The stands are filled with adults, mostly parents, and a few students. Cheerleaders hang out on the sidelines, mingling during plays, occasionally smiling over at the guys on the bench. Yet, Dillon doesn’t seem to be one of the smiled-upon. He appears focused on the game, until suddenly he looks over his shoulder at someone down low in the stands to the left of us. He shoots whoever it is a quick, dazzling grin before turning back to the play.